The Sorcerers
by lafalot
Summary: Well I, personally was unsatisfied with the ending of The Magician, so here is my contribution to society. The Sorcerers, a tale about the life of out favorite kings and queens in Fillory. Contains action, love, and a whole lot of humor. Rating mature.
1. Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter One: Not in Kansas Anymore

Hey guys! I've been pretty amazingly busy, but I'm finally getting back to publishing, so hope you enjoy. Make sure you give me some feedback, so that I can make my story better. This is The Sorcerers, sequel to The Magician, by Lev Grossman.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor shall I, profit from any ideas from the book, Lev Grossman's book, The Magician. Basically, it ain't my book.

"I still cannot believe you got those fucking wings!" Janet shouted at Eliot. Quentin groaned as he twisted himself into an upright position to face Janet and Eliot, the latter's wings were twitching quite indignantly.

"It was a personal decision! Can't you go bother someone else?" Eliot replied exasperatedly.

Janet fumed silently and pulled out a chair from a circular table sitting at the foot of Quentin's bed. He rubbed his eyes and silently thought, _well I'm pretty sure we make the most dysfunctional kings and queens I've ever seen in my life_.

"Isn't it a bit early to be arguing, guys?" Quentin gestured to the rising sun to make his point. "And why are you guys in my room?" Quentin asked again, eying them furtively.

Janet blushed and Eliot snorted. "We're hiding, obviously," Eliot said with an air of indifference.

"From what?"

Julia burst in the room, her long dress trailing behind her and slammed the door shut. "If I have to deal with one more fucking centaur, I'm going to burn down that entire fucking forest!" she exclaimed. Realization and understanding hit Quentin like a freight train and he nodded sadly.

"What happened this time?" Quentin asked.

"Apparently somebody's been stealing food off their lands, and they just _had_ to beseech the kings and queens of Fillory to help them with this troubling problem!" Julia answered scathingly.

"Well you're a hedge witch, just blow them all up and say it was an accident," Janet said, giggling.

Julia's scowl turned onto Janet, who in turn just looked smug. In response, Quentin pulled his soft and comfortable pillow over his head, "Fuck Fillory!" he shouted into his pillow. Eliot, Janet, and Julia each nodded fervently.

-----------------

Fillory was, Quentin mused, a place where you couldn't honestly ever be bored. There was too much going on, which in his opinion was perfect. Ever since he arrived there as a king, all he thought he'd honestly do was paperwork and the occasional exciting adventure. In truth, diplomacy between their subjects became a leading issue. Perhaps more correct to say that the four young adults that sat on the thrones were the subjects and all of the increasingly insane magical occupants of Fillory were the rulers.

Quentin listened to an absurd amount of advice from any passerby with an opinion. The worst was, by far he thought, the centaurs. They talked to him piteously, yet with a proper amount of reverence. It was the most infuriating thing in the world to listen to. Some walking and talking horse that spouted bullshit problems – and it always led to how walking with only two legs and no tail must be impossible. Quentin felt his fingers twitch a few times, thinking of how sweet it might feel to set that absolutely astonishing tail on fire and watch that motherfucker burn like a candle.

"Milords and ladies, the centaur Raudin requests an audience with you." The words were spoken by a messenger faun draped in a motley assortment of green leaves and silk. He bowed subserviently and Eliot snapped his fingers.

"That's it. He's going to come in this door and I'm going to strangle him. Screw magic, I think it'll feel better with my bare hands." Julia and Janet smiled slightly and a part of Quentin's brain thought, _not if I get him first. I think I still remember that spell Penny taught us to make that fireball, just move my hands in this position-_

"O Kings and Queens of this beautiful country!" the centaur interrupted Quentin's train of thought. "We have a most egregious problem, which I must say you probably will not be able to comprehend, but requires your attention."

Julia leaned over and whispered in Quentin's ear, "What do you think, Q? Think we can comprehend?" Quentin disguised his bark of laughter as a rather violent cough.

The centaur gave him a disdainful look and continued. "Food that we have laboriously worked for has been disappearing as of late. My people have been searching for the culprit of this theft, and have determined that it could only be the work of a magician."

Eliot had just taken a sip from his goblet and choked, sloshing a few drops of wine on his robe.

"A magician? Why a magician?" Janet asked.

The centaur stared at her disbelievingly. "Because only through the trickery and guile of magic could a race as old and wise as mine..."

Quentin started to drift off and calmed himself. A rival magician could be a major problem, but most likely the centaurs had just been tricked by some low level thief. He studied the architecture of the room he was in, that he had so often imagined sitting in as a kid. Plover had definitely managed to capture most of the main elements of the room in his literature, the cacophony of dark paintings and tapestries hanging on the wall directly to his left, and on the wall to his right were the largest stained windows Quentin had ever seen in his life.

"We found one of our centaurs, a young guard, lying on the floor in front of our warehouse, speaking nonsense on the floor. He had gone mad!" The centaur finished triumphantly.

Eliot rolled his eyes and sighed, "Listen, whatever your name is, tell him to go a bit easy on the drink and he should be fine." He shared a look with Quentin and Janet, "God knows that I've been in that state a few times myself."

The centaur looked outraged and drew himself up to his full height, "It is your responsibility, as the kings and queens of Fillory-"

"We'll look into it."

His friends turned to stare at him and Quentin sighed and waved at the centaur, "We'll be at your settlement in the Southern Orchard in two weeks. Is that acceptable?"

The centaur nodded imperiously and stopped before walking out the doors, "Two weeks?"

Fire suddenly splashed at his heels from Quentin's fingertips and he gave the centaur a meaningful look. The centaur ran out the door and Quentin sat back in his seat, sighing deeply. His friends were glaring at him and he snapped, "What?"

"You caved!" Janet accused, pointing her finger at him.

"I wanted him to stop talking! My head still hurts from that stupid lecture he gave us. Besides, we all need to get out of this castle. It's been getting a bit stuffy in here lately."

"The castle's been stuffy," Julia repeated. "That's why we have to go to a forest filled with nasty things to catch some idiot teenager who's probably on a dare from his idiot teenager friends."

Quentin raked his fingers through his hair, wishing he had an answer for why he had said yes. _Because Alice would have_, a voice in the back of his head replied. He felt the familiar tightening in his chest and closed his eyes for a second. Finally he responded, "I'll go alone, I'm the only one that said yes. Maybe it'll be a really sexy woman who's stealing to feed herself and when I rescue her she'll be so happy we'll get married and live a happy life together."

Julia and Janet rolled their eyes, but Eliot narrowed his. After a few moments of stony silence, Eliot cut through the tension, "I can't believe I dropped wine on my cloths. You know, wine stains."

"Shut up you fucking fairy," Janet replied angrily.

Quentin stood on a balcony, watching storm clouds roll in from across the Nameless Mountains. The wind caused a slight chill in his body and he formed a few fingerings and spoke several words so softly they were stolen by the wind. Warmth blossomed around his back and the corner's of Quentin's mouth twitched upwards. _Thank God for Aradial's Warmth spell..._ Lightning danced around the mountains, giving the mist a ghostly pallor and Quentin flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you look like some kind of ghost standing there," Eliot said warmly.

"Well you're the fucking fairy."

Eliot leaned against the cold stone of the balcony and shivered, "It's freezing like Ant-freaking-arctica out here. How are you staying warm?"

Quentin snorted. "Magic," was his short reply.

"You still think about her, don't you?" Eliot asked.

Quentin cast his eyes down, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You thought of her today. That's why you're going to help those centaurs." Eliot wasn't asking for affirmation. He was stating fact. "Man, I'm going to be honest. I have a bad feeling about this. This doesn't sound like your run-of-the-mill thievery shit at all. Not to mention the crazy centaur they found. Nothing is adding up." Eliot sighed, and his wings flitted back and forth slowly.

"Q, you're going to drag yourself into some real shit. I think you're just looking for a problem to move on-"

"I'm not trying to move on, you idiot. It's not like she's dead. She just became..."

"A niffin. She became a niffin. You don't come back from that." Eliot shook his head.

"It's possible that with magic you could bring her ba-"

Eliot cut Quentin off, "Q! There's nothing to bring back. She's gone. That niffin is in no way her-"

"Then why did that _niffin_ protect us? Why did she go for our little 'ole bud Marty Chatwin instead of wonderful, defenseless us?" Quentin shouted angrily.

They both fell silent. "I can't get that out of my head, Jesus man. There has to be something there. Or it would have killed us too."

"I don't know, maybe because it was filled with vengeance or something. We don't know anything about niffins. Usually, nobody can even get close."

A stony wall of silence fell on the balcony now. They both inhaled and exhaled deeply. Quentin stared at Eliot, his gaze both furtive and challenging, as if asking Eliot to try and stare back with the same intensity.

""Let's just sleep on it," was all Eliot grumbled out after a lengthy minute.

"Thank you, Eliot."

"You're going to get us all killed.

"Hey all I thought we were doing was sleeping on it."

"After this kind of conversation? I'm in need of some hard liquor. Lots of hard liquor."

"We're lost," Quentin said, after hitting the same dead end tapestry that they had hit four times previously.

"This is our castle. We cannot get lose, my dear friend." Eliot gave a crooked smile with one side of his face. "Let's try this door, it looks promising." He gestured towards a solid dark-wooded door and twisted on the handle. The door didn't budge and Eliot started hammering on it with his fist.

"Helloooo? Can someone please open this Goddamned door so that we can get into our lovely Queen's room?" Eliot shouted at the door.

"I told you that shortcut was stupid."

"It worked last time," Eliot snapped back.

Quentin sighed and started to bounce the back of his head on the stone.

"99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer..." Quentin sang tiredly.

Eliot gave him a scathing look. "That's really going to help the situation."

"We could try blasting the wall down," Quentin suggested offhandedly.

Eliot pounded on the door furiously. "It's late and I want a freaking glass of wine! Open this fuck-"

The door swung open and Eliot shut his mouth.

"Hey guys," Janet said nonchalantly, standing in the doorway wearing a nightgown.

"Your rooms are over here?" Quentin asked.

Janet rolled her eyes. "Julia and I got tired of people interrupting us in the night to do our queenly duties so we changed rooms. How the hell did you find us?"

"You know how we are. Geniuses and stuff. If we want it, we get it," Quentin said airily.

"So you want us now?" Julia asked coming over to engage the rest of the group in conversation.

Quentin blushed and stammered slightly, "N-no, that came out wrong. We just wanted to tell you this idea we had-"

"Yeah this crazy new idea," Eliot said sarcastically. "We're going to drink until standing becomes arduous."

"And this is new, how?" Janet asked, rolling her eyes.

Quentin glanced over at Eliot, and Eliot shook his head ever so slightly. _Wait_ he mouthed to Quentin. Quentin began to feel a red hot feeling in his chest, and he realized it was anger. Wait? For what. So that we can avoid the issue until it's too late? He clenched his hands and tried to get a grip on his emotions.

"Hey Q! You coming?" Julia called from the end of the hallway.

Quentin unclenched his hands. I suppose waiting for right now is okay.

"What kind of retarded question is that?" He laughed out as he met up with the rest of the group.

"You know what else is retarded?" Janet asked, glancing at Eliot.

"Shut up, Janet. I will strangle you with my wings, one day."

A bit short, but I intend to increase the length a lot. Get ready for a long and bumpy adventure, with humor, action, magic, and maybe a bit of love.


	2. One Day

Chapter Two: One Day.

Hello all, haven't had any reviews yet, but I shall persevere in the hopes that someone may actually enjoy reading this. It would really be awesome to get a review, though, but let's get this show on the road folks.

-------------------------------------

"I'm bored," Janet complained, luxuriously stretched out on a blanket. The kings and queens of Fillory were currently lazing about upon the lush, green fields on the side of the castle. Julia and Eliot were engaged in a semi-serious effort to try and create a lake on the green field, occasionally casting a spell and getting themselves drenched from the water in the air.

"I told you that wouldn't work!" Eliot shouted, flapping his arms around. "Any idiot could have guessed that trying to pull moisture from the air was just going to create a cloud and drench us both!"

"Well, I'm _sorry_ Mr. I-Can't-Think-Of-Anything-Better," Julia argued back, her eyes flashing fiercely. "Where's all that education from Brakebills gone, huh? And I thought that I was supposed to be the amateur here."

Janet hummed to herself, idly locking a piece of hair around her index finger. "I think our favorite little hedge witch argues with Eliot more than I do!" she said smugly. Quentin sighed and stared back up at the sky.

The problem with doing nothing, he thought, is not knowing quite when you're finished. He could lay on this patch of grass for hours, enjoying the twin feeling of the hot sun and cool breeze on his cheek. They had four days until they had to be at the centaur's settlement in Southern Orchard. Truth be told, he was regretting agreeing to go more and more as the days passed.

_Stupid horses need to learn to take care of themselves..._

He heard a chant and turned his head to stare at Eliot and Julia. They both had their eyes closed and their fingers were moving slowly and deliberately. Finally, a rift in the earth appeared and water slowly seeped in from the bottom, until the whole pool was full.

"Who wants to go skinny dipping?" Janet cried out, exuberantly standing up.

Eliot spoke rapidly to Quentin, "Hey Q, remember that ridiculous-ass stunt you pulled during that freezing game of Welters? You nailed the globe right at the other guy's knee, and then ripped off your cloths and jumped in with Alice over your shoulder."

Julia arched an eyebrow at Quentin and the corner's of her mouth quirked upwards, "Oh? That's a different Quentin than the Quentin I knew in high school."

Quentin shrugged and then smiled slyly at Julia. Julia backed away quickly.

"Not happening, you crazy son-of-a-" Julia was cut off by Quentin bull-charging her and hoisting her up above his shoulder. He quickly sprinted over to the lake while Julia was wriggling on his shoulder crying out, "Let me go you stupid, pigheaded-" Julia paused in her reverie and gasped as Quentin let out a primal yell and dove into the water.

Eliot and Janet watched the scene with mild amusement, content to watch from afar.

"You know, I bet that Q has the hots for Julia," Janet said from the corner of her mouth.

Eliot looked at her and then sighed, lying back and putting his arm around her. "I think it's the other way around."

Janet looked at the scene and watched Julia freeze the water around Quentin.

"Woh! No fair! You didn't say we could use magic," Quentin protested, a chill spreading across is body.

"I didn't throw you in the water."

"Oh come on!" Quentin said pleadingly. The ice was creeping up dangerously close around him and he began to try to escape, only ending up slipping and sliding on the ice. "Look at me, my lips are blue. End the spell Julia, for the love of freaking God."

"I bet your balls are blue, too," she retorted. She made several quick hand motions and spoke quietly. The ice receded and Quentin sighed in relief, making a beeline for the field and rubbing his arms and legs to get the blood moving.

Seeking refuge on the grass, Quentin plopped himself down and removed himself of his shirt. It came off smoothly and both Janet and Eliot were staring at him open-mouthed.

"Your shoulder!" Eliot exclaimed, pointing at Quentin.

"What about it?" Quentin asked.

"It's normal, you twit!" Janet answered. "I remember when Martin Chatwin crushed it, how did you fix it?"

Quentin smiled. "A combination of surgery and magic, my dear friends. I got a surgery to get rid of the puppet shoulder that those stupid centaurs gave me, and then studied up on healing magic. All I needed to do was knit the muscles and bones back together in the right way, once the reconstruction was done in surgery." Quentin smiled smugly, "Couldn't have my shoulder holding me back in Fillory, right?"

"But what about the crushed bone? How did you replace that?" Janet questioned.

"In the end, human bones and animal bones aren't that different, a lot of calcium, you know. It was a tricky bit of math to figure out the exact mass of my shoulder bone – and I screwed up the first time pretty badly, but I finally got it right in the end. So voila, new shoulder _á__ la_ chicken bones." Quentin rubbed his shoulder slightly self-consciously.

Eliot clapped his hands together and laughed, "Jesus, Q. That's amazing. You still have white hair, though. Hey do you have white hair around your nuts, too?"

Janet moaned in disgust. "Of course Eliot would want to know that," she whispered conspiratorially with Julia. Julia giggled.

"What was that, Janet?" Eliot asked turning towards her, his face slightly red.

Janet grinned and gestured with her hands. "Give me five minutes and a pair of shears and those wings of yours would trouble the rest of the world no longer."

01234567890123456789

"I think we make the worst and most dysfunctional kings and queens ever," Quentin announced to his friends while they were eating dinner. A delectable meal stood in front of them, consisting of roasted chicken breast, potatoes, pork cutlets, roasted asparagus, and a huge platter of salad.

"You know what I can't believe?" Eliot asked his friends, ignoring Quentin's comment.

"What?" Janet asked, rolling her eyes.

"That both Fillory and our world, you know Earth, have the same types of food. You know, chicken, potatoes, lettuce. I think that's an amazing coincidence."

"Well we better stuff up now, because for the next week, we're going to be in the woods, thanks to our lovely resident idiot, Quentin!" Julia exclaimed sarcastically. "We're going to be eating God-knows-what and sleeping God-knows-where, but in return we get to help possibly the most pretentious creatures ever!"

"The centaurs," Janet continued, "Perhaps the most annoying and arrogant creatures on the face of this planet. Thanks Q, now we get to spend multiple days interacting with those narcissistic ninnies."

Quentin had a sneaking suspicion that Janet and Julia had rehearsed that and he glanced at his food. He tried to explain himself and spoke uncomfortably, "We _are_ the kings and queens of Fillory, you know. We are supposed to be doing benevolent stuff, like helping people who have problems."

"Centaurs aren't people, they are horses! They are annoying horses that deserve to have their heads chopped off and served with a nice side of foie gras."

Eliot chuckled. "You couldn't make foie gras if a fairy godmother suddenly appeared and blessed you with the talent of cooking which, by the way, you currently have none of."

"And you're supposed to be that fairy, right, asshole?" Janet asked, her eyes narrowed towards Eliot.

"Hey now, no need to get nasty," Eliot backtracked, cowed by Janet's fearsome verbal attack.

Janet huffed and attacked her food with a new invigoration. Silence filled the dining hall for the rest of the duration of the dinner. Quentin rubbed his eyes, _did I say dysfunctional? I meant incompatible..._

01234567890123456789

"Canvass tents?" Janet called out, a piece of parchment and a quill held out in front of her.

"Check!" Eliot called out from the other room.

"Sleeping mats?"

"Check!"

"Blankets?"

"Check!"

"Shears?"

"Chec-wait," Eliot looked around the room he was in. He called out to Janet, "We don't have any shears, but why do we need them?"

Janet walked into the room, looking around. "No reason, I suppose," she said finally, her eyes staring slightly behind Eliot.

"I really, really hate you sometimes," Eliot said realization finally dawning upon him; his wings fluttering gently.

012534567890123689

"Hey Q, why didn't you fix your hair color along with your shoulder?" Julia asked.

The moon shone brightly through the nighttime sky, illuminating the grounds that Quentin and Julia were lying on. They were both lying on their backs near the lake that Julia and Eliot had labored to create. A light breeze danced through the field, rustling through the grass, stirring through Julia's hair. A bottle of wine lay completely empty several yards away, along with two wineglasses, a mischievous glint running through the glass.

"Hm?" Quentin replied, his slightly drunken mind not hearing the question.

"You asshole," Julia hiccuped and lightly smacked Quentin's shoulder. He snorted and rolled over on his side to face her. She asked the question again.

"Oh, stuff like that – you really don't try to mess with. Your looks are permanent, unfortunately. I suppose I could figure out a spell to dye it, but I think I've rather gotten used to the white."

"But magic changed your hair, couldn't magic change it back?" Julia questioned.

Quentin waved his hand absentmindedly. "I really don't mind anymore. I used to, but I kinda got over it, I think."

A silence permeated through the air, gently affixing itself to the conversation. Not frosty, but a warm, companionable quiet way of understanding.

"So how did Eliot and Janet ever find you in the first place?" Quentin finally asked.

Julia replied, "There was a fat kid there too, but they didn't really find me, I actually found them."

Quentin snorted, "The would be Josh, and he's a bit sensitive about his weight."

Julia smiled and then continued her story, "I was actually looking for you. I wanted to show you that I had learned magic, albeit in a slightly roundabout fashion. I met this old geezer who stared at my chest all day long – I was his cleaning lady, but one day in his office I saw a certificate of graduation from Brakebills. I remembered that that was the name of the school that I got turned away from, and I knew he must be a wizard. So I begged him to teach me some magic, and I showed that I could do some, and..." Julia trailed off. "I just learned. I wasn't really a fast learner, and I definitely have major holes in my knowledge, but overall for doing it myself, I think I'm okay."

Quentin blinked and stared at her incredulously. "Just okay? Are you joking? Most hedge-witches become barely proficient in mastering other people's spells, but you can make up your own! You're a natural."

Julia beamed and continued, "Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah – I was looking for you, but whenever I cast a locater spell, it always went insane. Eventually I just checked the yellow pages and found an apartment registered to you and I went to go check it out. That's when I saw them – and when they said they had no idea who you were, I kind of flipped out."

By the light, pale moonlight, Quentin could see Julia blush. "I almost attacked them with magic, and they went nuts. Began to cast really big spells that I didn't even know existed and kept on asking me things about Martin Chatwin." Julia rolled her eyes, "I thought _they _were insane, talking about some book I read when I was a kid... But then we all calmed down a little bit and we started talking and... here we are."

Quentin snorted amusedly, "You attacked them? You could have been murdered, you know Josh has no control of the power he has in his spells? Once he summoned a black hole that ate this big fiery-red fucker that was trying to kill us." Quentin shivered slightly at the memory of the labyrinth.

Julia's blush deepened and silence pervaded the air again.

"I'm glad you turned out okay," Quentin said quietly, his eyelids drooping. "I wanted to throttle the dean of our school after I saw what had happened to you."

"You know, it was really when I saw you that I became more normal again. It kind of horrified me to see what I'd become because of my obsession with magic. You know, Q, we could always..." Julia trailed off as she heard Quentin's light snore.

"You asshole."

01234567890123456789

"Get up, everyone! Time to go into the forest of creepy-crawly nasty things!" Janet called into Eliot and Quentin's bedroom.

Quentin awoke to a throbbing headache, "It is too fucking early Janet," he moaned.

"Ask me later if I care, it's time to go," Janet replied smugly.

Eliot stepped out of bed and his wings fluttered.

Janet stared at his beseechingly and groaned out, "Just a little trim, Eliot, please! You wouldn't feel a thing."

"Not a fucking chance."

_Into the forest we go..._

012344567890123576856

Hey everyone! Chapter two is up, finally right? Sorry I've been working a super-duper amount lately but now that school is starting, try to expect one to two chapters a week. Please review, to the few people that have read this story so far, I know you exist.

Later.


	3. Discovery

Chapter 3: Discovery

Disclaimer: I am in no way profiting from this piece of work. All work within my story regarding The Magicians is strictly Lev Grossman's.

Well imagine that. I got a review, a favorite story, and a story alert all in one day from a most wonderful human, J-Whit Mooney. Thank you for your support. Hope you enjoy!

012234567890123456789012345

Quentin's horse trotted slowly across the trail, along with his fellow kings and queens, Eliot, Janet, and Julia. Truth be told, he thought, this whole horse-riding concept is just a conceptually bad one. It's fucking like lying on a pole with your dick, he thought, angrily.

"Honk, honk, honk, honk-onk _honk_!" Janet said, snorting out a laugh.

Quentin rolled his eyes and Eliot choked out a laugh rather ill-disguised as a cough. Julia even had a look of recognition; Quentin figured Janet must have told everyone she knew the story of his travelogue as a goose.

"How far away are we? Janet asked.

"I have no idea," Eliot replied calmly

"You're supposed to be the fucking cartographer, Eliot! That's the position we agreed on!" Janet spoke venomously.

"No, that would be the job _you_ gave me, Jan-Jan," Eliot replied callously. He fished into his pack and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Who wants wine straight out of the bottle?" he shouted out to the rest of the group.

They began to consume copious amounts of alcohol, causing a hazy cloud to settle over everyone's minds.

0123445678901234567890

"Man the star's are beautiful tonight," Julia slurred out leaning against a tree.

"We are so fucking lost," Janet moaned into her hands.

Eliot chugged another gulp of the third bottle of wine opened so far, "Come on Janet look up at the stars," he wagged his finger at her, "I might let you trim my wings."

Janet frowned and stared at Eliot calculatingly. After a long 30 seconds, she craned her neck upwards at the stars, and dropping her hands to her sides.

"I suppose it is a beautiful night," she sighed.

Eliot laughed, "God you are so easy, you really hate my wings that much?"

"Hate is a strong word, but those wings have got to be the most effing annoying things I have ever witnessed."

"Now Janet," Quentin said, "now is not the time for prudence. If you're going to imply a cuss words, you might as well just say 'fucking'."

Eliot stared at her and then replied, "Well, I'm still not letting you anywhere near my wings."

"Eliot! You promised," Janet whined

"No, I said I _might_. Very large difference."

The whole group laughed and sat in the lush forest. The night was _alive_ in Quentin's opinion. He could hear the buzzing insects dart around his ears, he could feel the soft breeze rustling the leaves. This, for lack of a better word, living exhilarated him, leaving him breathless at every turn. Someone leaned against his harm and Quentin put his arm around her. Julia gazed up at him with a look both sincere and affectionate.

"Hey Q?" she asked softly.

Quentin snored lightly. Julia sighed, "You asshole."

01234567890123456789

The sun's glare awoke them all, forcing fluttering eyelids to open.

"Ah, shit," Eliot sighed as he sat up in an upright position. He rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Quentin checked his hand out of habit, and saw his wrist bare. "No clue," Quentin replied.

"I feel so disgusting," Julia moaned. "We're probably all infected with some kind of horrible disease now."

Janet spoke quietly, "It's to early to complain, Julia. My head is absolutely throbbing."

"Coming from Janet?" Eliot spoke. "Now that's hard to believe."

Janet glared at him, and Quentin gave a half-hearted chuckle. He looked around and then stood up wildly.

"What is it Q?" Julia asked.

"Where the fuck did our horses go?"

They all stood up immediately, searching for their horses.

Julia moaned, "This is _not_ happening. Please, someone tell me that this is all a horrible alcohol inspired dream."

Janet spoke venomously, "Those horses had all of our food, our supplies, our maps, dammit, Eliot this is all your fault!"

"My fault? When did this all become my fault?" Eliot defended himself.

"You were being all stupid and carefree and like, "Hey guys, let's drink booze and get lost!""

Eliot thought about that for a few seconds. "Well, you guys need to have stronger resolutions," he said weakly.

Janet fumed silently and Quentin began a spell. Chanting in Gaelic and Latin, he made several fast hand moments. And phosphorescent arrow pointed directly to the group's east, and Quentin rolled up his sleeves. "Problem solved. That's where our horses are, and with luck, this stupid arrow isn't pointing too far away."

They began to trek through the forest, conversation to a minimum. The glowing arrow kept steadily ahead of them, and Eliot walked over to Quentin's left.

"Where'd you learn that spell?" Eliot asked.

"It's pretty much a standard location spell, but the added Gaelic makes it so that the arrow doesn't disappear," Quentin replied.

"Where's the power to fuel it coming from?"

"Me, so we better find those horses fast, because I don't know how long I can maintain the spell."

"Excuse me, but did you just call my brethren 'horses'?"

The group nearly jumped out their skins to see a centaur frowning behind them.

"Jesus Christ, make a little bit of noise next time," Eliot said breathlessly, wiping his sweat covered brow off with the back of his hand. "We could have killed you with a snap of our fingers, you know."

The centaur raised an eyebrow. "I see," he spoke slowly. "I assume you are the kings and queens of Fillory, sent here to deal with our thievery problem?"

"That's us," Quentin said.

"You may call me Silvershoe," the centaur spoke. "I was sent by my people to retrieve you and bring you to our food warehouses. Please remember that the locations of these storehouses is a long kept and valued secret among our people; we do not want intruders."

"He's still frowning and raising one eyebrow. Damn, this guy has amazing facial control," Eliot whispered to Janet. Julia overheard the comment and the three of them each snorted.

A shrill sound pierced the air and centaurs head swivel. "That is the alarm! The intruder has returned! Come quickly, it is not far."

Quentin let out a curse and began to jog to follow the centaur. The centaur began to go even faster and Janet clutched her side. "I'm never... going to... forgive... their race for this." She huffed. "Ever..."

They heard yelling in the distance and Quentin tensed himself for a fight. A sick feeling began to encompass his gut, and Quentin felt himself sweating. His out-of-shape body couldn't run for much longer and tree branches were repeatedly smacking his arms.

They burst out in a clearing and the kings and queens of Fillory saw perhaps the most interesting site in their life.

Around a dozen centaurs armed with swords and bows surrounded a young man, of no more than 21 or 22 years of age. He had an apple in his mouth and was chewing it rather nonchalantly in front of them.

"You! Human! We have caught you at last. Prepare to meet the consequences for your actions!"

The man spoke in a lofty, confident voice. "You guys are honestly a rather repetitive lot. Seriously, that's what the last guy said to me, and well, you guys found him, right?"

The centaurs began to close in on him and Quentin's breathy voice cut through, "Wait!" he shouted as loud as he could in his current state. The centaurs stopped and the rest of the group came up to the circle of centaurs.

Quentin finally got a closer look at the man. He stood at about six feet in height, with a lean build. Caucasian, tan skin, and dark brown hair cascaded around his head. A molten, raggedy beard encompassed the man's face, but beneath it Quentin saw the corner's of his lips twitched up in a slight smile.

"Who are you?" Eliot asked.

"I could ask you that same question, buddy. All I know is that I pressed this button that I found of the ground, and all of a sudden I was in this crazy forest with talking horses," the man replied.

The four shared a look and Eliot spoke again. "What's your name?"

The man stared at them apprehensively. "Sam," he finally said. "Sam Lamar. Who are you?"

"My name's Eliot. These are my friends, Quentin, Janet, and Julia. We're the kings of this place, Fillory."

"And queens!" Janet interjected, still red-faced from all of the running.

Sam snorted, "You don't look very regal, but I suppose anything goes in this place. Is this really Fillory, like in those books by Plover, or whatever his name is? God, I used to love those books when I was a kid."

"You don't seem very surprised, but yes, this is Fillory."

"Any thing's possible with magic, right?"

The four shared a look, and then Quentin stepped up. "You're a magician?"

Sam answered, "Went to school and graduated and everything. Majored in illusionary magic."

"Where did you go to school?" Quentin asked, interested.

"While the socializations of humans can seem very interesting, there is a matter at hand here!" Silvershoe interjected furiously.

"What? Oh yes, Why have you been stealing from our favorite four-legged friends over here?" Quentin asked sarcastically.

Janet snorted, and Julia's lips twitched.

"I was hungry," Sam explained.

A centaur broke free from the circle and charged, yelling out a battle cry. His feet galloped extraordinarily fast, and Quentin's brain froze. He had no idea what to do, he willed his fingers to move and knock the centaurs backwards, but all he did was stand and watch.

Turning towards the centaur, Sam's expression changed. He turned to look at the centaur, and then everything stopped.

01234567890123456789

Quentin felt nauseous, he looked around and apparently, he was standing on a tower. Everything was a pale red and deep black. The colors shifted slightly, and Quentin felt a feeling similar to falling, except he wasn't moving a muscle. He saw a burgeoning metropolis, full of buildings of every shape and size. The outline's of the world around him seemed hazy, ill defined, blurring his vision until finally he closed his eyes.

Everything snapped back into the forest setting. The lucid green colors and bright sun created dots in Quentin's eyes, yet as he looked around and squinted, he thought perhaps the centaurs came off worse.

The centaurs were all unsteady on their feet, eyes dazzled and blinking rapidly. A few of them toppled over and Quentin stared at the centaur in the middle of the clearing. He was speaking gibberish, lying on the ground. Sam stared at him indifferently, turning towards the kings and queens. As he turned, Quentin could have sworn that he saw a hint of some kind of black in his eyes, but then dismissed it as he looked closer. His eyes were a regular green, perhaps made even more green by all of the leaves in the forest.

"Sorry about that, all." His crisp, clear, American voice ringing and sounding odd to Quentin's ears. "Thought you might have been out of range, but I suppose not. Don't worry though, whatever you got, it was 10 times worse for people closer, and for the little asshole that charged right at me, let's just say it wasn't a very pleasant time for him either."

He took another bite out of the apple and smiled ferally. "So, come to arrest me then?"

He knew we were in the range of his spell, Quentin realized. He wanted us to feel that, to feel just a hint of what he could do if we tried to fight. This was all about a demonstration of power. And Quentin knew very well that fighting him would be completely pointless, they would end up like the centaur, on the ground speaking gibberish.

"We will, if we have to!" Julia spoke vehemently.

Quentin rolled his eyes, _of course..._

"Really?" Sam asked slowly. "Now that's interesting. Well, have no fear. If you'll just lead me to your castle – there is a castle here I think – I'll be on my dandy way, and we can all end up happy. Well, except for him." He gestured to the centaur on the ground.

Julia's eyes flashed, and she took a step forward, "Fix him," she said, her voice made of steel.

Sam met her gaze, "Jese, you are a ferocious one. He'll be fine in a few days, don't you worry. There isn't anything I could do anyways."

01234567890123456789

Sorry this took so long, my computer has the blue screen of death... You can guess it's been a bit hard to update. Sorry again!


	4. Trapped! Pt 1

Chapter 4: Intrigue

Disclaimer: I am in no way profiting from this piece of work. All work within my story regarding The Magicians is strictly Lev Grossman's. Though I'd like to say I contributed a few ideas.

Personal Note: Well guys, I'm sorry. I'd like to mention five people that left reviews: jwhit-moony, Katie, kyle, Simplicity is Bliss, and Minerva08. If this story continues and gains success ever, it's you guys that any readers will have to thank and I thank you. All I'll say is I'm finishing this story and it's sequels if it kills me, and you guys can bet that everything that I end up writing is going to be owed to you. And so we go, ladies and gentlemen. Let's do this.

Story Note: Julia/Quentin? Now, now, that would be telling. What's the fun in that? You can't expect me to reveal major plot spoilers on chapter for now, Simplicity is Bliss, can you?

Everything was burning. The scent of ash and decay filled Quentin's nose, and he nearly retched in response. There was a plain, it's hills rolled over quietly and gently, looping into the horizon, stained a muddy red color, a mix of ash and blood. The sun burned overhead, bloodily illuminating the carnage, giving a unique color to each piece of ash that fell – softly as snowflakes. A dark figure walked through the scene. The silhouette of a man far away stopped and stared at the ash, as if in pensive thought, and then turned and revealed his face. He was smiling.

Quentin's eyes burned open. The stifling summer air constricted his chest and Quentin fought for breath. Gasping heavily he wiped the back of his hand over his brow absentmindedly, and was surprised to feel his head covered in a layer of cool sweat. He crawled slowly out of his hand sewn sleeping bag, constructed of heavy canvass. A woman next to him stirred quietly and he glanced down at her. She snored lightly and he shook his head a few times.

He parted the folds to the tent and walked outside to the cool summer breeze. A smoldering fire smoked at the center of a rough encampment, and Quentin shivered in memory of the dream. Nightmare, he corrected himself. Something that wakes you up like that definitely qualifies as a nightmare, he thought grimly. He walked over to a log that was right sitting next to the embers as a makeshift loveseat and he sat on it. He ran a hand through his hair and stared out at the darkness.

"You sleep lightly," a voice to his left said. Quentin spun around on his leg in surprise and relaxed slightly when he saw it was only Sam, the group's tag-along vagabond.

"Do you always sneak up on people like that, or do you just enjoy being an asshole?" Quentin asked petulantly. Sam chuckled lightly.

"Somebody's up past their bedtime. Why are you up, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep," Quentin replied shortly. Same nodded and scratched his chin.

"They don't tell you about that part, do they?" Sam asked quietly. Quentin turned to face him more intently.

Frowning, Quentin asked, "About what?"

"The nightmares," Sam replied, "from doing something incredibly stupid at one time, and then surviving it and having it branded as 'heroic'. Stuff like that haunts you."

Quentin's frown deepened. "Who are we talking about, me or you? Because honestly, I don't need a late night confession."

Sam chuckled again, "Ah, the melodrama. Let me guess, somebody died because of a stupid mistake that you made."

Quentin said nothing.

Sam let out a bark of laughter. "Wow. Good guess, huh? Were you in love? Did you fail to protect her?"

Quentin tightened his fist. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. It has nothing to do with any of that. I just couldn't sleep."

Sam raised an amused eyebrow. "With an attitude like that, I have no doubt that you'll probably be getting somebody close to you killed again real soon."

Quentin swung his fist and felt it connect satisfyingly with Sam's left cheek. Sam let out a breath of air as he was knocked to the ground and he touched his face gingerly. He stood back up and dusted himself off lightly, sitting back on the log next to Quentin. Quentin felt a ferocious urge in his body sated and stared intensely at the other man, trying to see what happened next.

"If you do that again, I'll kill you." Quentin's body froze. The temperature in the air decreased and raised at the same time. Sam's tone never changed. It was casual and arrogant, and the danger of it scared Quentin. "It won't be slow. It'll take ages for your body to die of hunger, and the entire time you'll be terrified." Quentin looked at Sam's eyes unwittingly and he let his gaze linger a second to long.

Fire! Everywhere! Quentin had to escape, had to run, had to save himself. Smoke choked up his senses and he started coughing. Hacking coughs that were full of fluid, full of death.

Everything went away and Quentin found himself looking at Sam's eyes. He could have sworn he saw an inky blackness recede into green, but as Quentin looked deeper, all he saw was green. Frosted over and furious, threatening and calculating, and calmly arrogant in their assessment of Quentin, Quentin felt a fear that he hadn't felt since his first encounter with Martin Chatwin at Brakebills. He began to regret his punch a little bit.

"Go back to bed Quentin," Sam gave a chilling smile, "Think pleasant thoughts."

The horses trotted at a slow pace through the dense foliage, following a roughly carved out trail through the forest. The sun was like an angry orange face in the sky, hot, completely uncompromising in its blinding rays. The tips of trees as steady tips of black on the pale sky.

"I'm startin' to feel like a baked tomato out here. Anyone else?" Sam rubbed his sweat laden hair with a greasy arm. Flies pitched back in forth in the wood setting. A heavy dead silence was in the forest.

"And I'm feeling like the only one talking. I'm not Satan, you know, I won't eat your soul if you talk to me," Sam commented.

Eliot sent Quentin a look, and Quentin nodded. "Listen, not like we don't want to be friends with you or anything," Eliot said pleadingly, "but you're a dangerous person. And dangerous stuff happens to dangerous people." He tried to give a meaningful glance at Sam's face.

If anything, Sam's eyes looked let down. There was none of the harsh and chilly anger that Quentin had seen in his eyes last night, none of the overbearing sense of threat. Quentin just saw a tired man, with pure green eyes. A deep forest green, and Sam's face met Quentin's. Quentin saw his eyes dead on, and underlying those deep-as-forest eyes was a layer of black. Black as darkness and Quentin felt himself get a chill. All of a sudden he was drawn into a kind of corner through Sam's eyes.

Quentin saw a young man, only 16 or 17, and then Quentin gasped. Quentin saw a town being burned to the ground. He saw a man shouting words, and there being so much death, so much destruction. He saw the young man kill.

"Quentin!" Janet snapped.

Quentin's eyes blinked into focus. "I'm fine," he said quickly.

"No, you idiot, where do we go?" she asked like a petulant child.

Oh, the _fucking _map, Quentin remembered. "Oh yeah. Um. I think it's a left up here."

Juliet, who was at the lead of trail looked back at Quentin, "Hey Q, there definitely isn't a left turn right here."

_Oh fuck._

"Well, make a right then," Quentin said cautiously.

"Quentin, there's no trail."

Quentin and Sam jogged up to Eliot, Julia, and Janet. They went around a bend and the trail suddenly ended. There was no mark or any kind of indicator of the trail. It was all forest.

"Well this is interesting," Eliot said.

The group had sat down looking around with cautious looks. There was silence, and finally Quentin spoke up, "There's no trail."

"I think we can see that, you fucking idiot," Janet sniped.

Eliot gave her a sidelong glance. "Calm down, Janet. We need to resemble an air of rationality right now. I'll go grab my vodka in a second."

Quentin choked a little bit and snorted out some laughter. Julia rolled her eyes and smiled. Sam raised an eyebrow and Janet dropped her shoulders and laughed.

Sam spoke up, "Alright. There's only two types of magic that could do this. One type is the most natural to assume. Somebody could have used magic to accelerate the growth of all of the trees from the path on, or somebody could have built up a powerful illusion, that made us see whatever the caster wanted us to see." Sam's face darkened. "Unfortunately, both cases are bad."

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "That would mean someone is trying to kill us."

"Well the alternative is to admit we slept for 300 years," Same retorted.

Eliot sighed. "Okay, well, it's not like I didn't try to not jump to a conclusion but I guess we're all in agreement that someone is trying to kill us."

"Who?" Julia asked. "We haven't done anything in Fillory to merit someone wanting to kill us."

Quentin looked at her grimly. "You haven't. We have," he said shortly. Janet inhaled sharply.

"That Martin Chatwin said he had made friends. Them?" Janet asked, inquisitively.

Sam held up a hand and gestured for the group to be silent, "Listen to me, we are pressed for time, and as much as the "who" in this situation matters, the "what-are-we-dealing-with" matters more. Our first focus should be survival, and then you guys can figure out the nasty details later."

Eliot eyed him apprehensively, "Who said anything about 'we'?" Julia and Janet nodded slighty, in affirmation of Eliot's question.

Sam looked at him, and the temperature around them lowered a few degrees. He gave them a feral grin, "Unless you want me as an enemy..."

"No!" Quentin jumped in. "Sam's right, we need to work together and get out of this forest before whatever is hunting makes an overt move."

Eliot gave Quentin a betrayed look and Quentin shunted his eyes down. A lengthy silence ensued and Eliot flapped his arm vaguely in Sam's direction, giving him the right of way in the conversation.

Sam sighed and started speaking. "Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there are only two ways to cover up a trail so fast, casting an illusion, or actually accelerating the growth. There are reasons why both of these are bad for us."

Janet interrupted him crossly, "We don't need a lecture, we all went to school." Then she paused and gave a sidelong glance at Julia, "Okay well three out of four isn't bad. And for a hedge-witch, she's not bad."

Julia calmly gave Janet the finger as her response. Quentin and Eliot chuckled, and Sam rolled his eyes and continued speaking.

"Again with the interruptions! I'm the only one here who's actually fought a magician and won, so shut up and listen to me if you want to live."

"Not technically true," Janet started to say but was quelled from a fierce glance of Quentin's. Quentin felt a roaring beast in his chest and stared directly at Janet.

"You have the audacity to call what we did 'winning'?" He asked in a deadly quiet voice. "We hid behind Alice and watched her literally kill herself to save us. We have someone here who might actually know what he's talking about, so shut your fucking mouth, for once, and listen before somebody else ends up dead."

Janet's chin trembled and she closed her mouth. Quentin felt the beginnings of a proper rant but instead he turned towards Sam and nodded at him to continue. Sam gave a cautious look around and cleared his throat.

"O.K., so all the discussion is over? Excellent," Sam said, answering his own question. "Now two types; let's start with the simplest, illusions. The way illusions are cast is that you "weave" multiple spells over each other to simulate a false reality, typically one spell for each sense. A well weaved illusion would be consisted of five spells, generally. Of course, with only five spells, you're illusion can't adapt to anything, so for example you wouldn't see a footprint in a snow illusion, or you wouldn't see your shadow if the illusion was illuminating the space."

"Welcome to Magical Illusions 101," Julia sighed.

The group chuckled briefly and Sam resumed talking, "But this illusion is obviously adapting to the environment, I can see where Janet stepped on the edge of the forest. If it were an illusion, I would guess it has at least 12 weavings. Maybe more, maybe less..." Sam trailed off, mumbling to himself and counting on his fingers.

Quentin seemed to be the only one who noticed the slight wordplay and interrupted Sam out of his reverie, "You said "If it were," which implies that you know it's not. And you haven't told us why both situations are so bad for us yet."

Sam shook his head and answered Quentin, "Yeah, "if it were". It's definitely not an illusion."

Sam elaborated no further and Julia asked the obvious, "How are you so sure?"

Quentin looked at Sam and waited for an answer. A fly buzzed around the air noisily and Quentin began to listen to sounds from the forest. A horrible creeping feeling came around his neck and he felt like they were being watched. He slowly turned his head, trying to spot the source of his uneasiness. There! No, that was just a bird. Quentin paused and then turned back to look at Sam. Sam had his eyebrows scrunched and looked at the others. A bead of sweat crept down the side of Quentin's face that had absolutely nothing to do with the humid environment.

"Look, I am tired of your bullshit, schoolteacher treatment of us!" Janet hollered. "If you have reasons to say something, than tell us flat out, or just keep your mouth shut!"

Eliot rubbed the back of his neck and put a hand on Janet's shoulder and opened his mouth as if to speak, but Janet angrily shrugged it off. Her face began to adopt a red color and she began to yell at Sam again when all of a sudden she shivered. She looked questioningly at everyone else and noticed their silence.

Julia looked at Quentin and spoke, "You noticed it first, Q. What's happening?"

Sam looked at Quentin meaningfully and put his hand over his lips. Quentin nodded and mimed for the others to be silent as well. Then Sam gestured at the group, silently, and covered his own eyes with his hands and pointed at them.

"You want us to clo-" Janet began to whisper and Sam shook his head violently and pointed at her mouth. He gestured again with his hands over his eyes and nodded when Julia closed her eyes. Eliot rolled his eyes and did the same thing, his wings fluttering gently. Sam looked at Quentin and nodded. Quentin looked at Sam's eyes, and decided. What the hell was there to lose? He closed his eyes and instantly felt naked against the harshness of the jungle.

All of a sudden, Quentin felt the same temperature flux as he had last night, and truly shivered. He heard a piercing scream, a scream that no human could make and then he heard a quiet voice, "You can open your eyes now."

Quentin opened his eyes to a completely different setting.

They were standing on a tower.

"What the hell?" Eliot said breathlessly.

"The good news is that I was right, it is most definitely not an illusion," Sam replied softly. "We were being watched by a bird, and when I cast my illusion and broke it's mind, it crapped on my shoe. Needless to say, illusions don't to that."

Dark gray clouds rolled by overhead, threatening rain and lightening, and they were surrounded on all sides by this ominous metropolis, with towers everywhere. They were on the tallest tower and Quentin looked down and all he saw was an abyss.

"Sam, where are we?" Quentin heard himself ask.

"Well now I have some explaining to do. If we're going to get out of this alive, we're going to have to have a bit of trust. So shut up and listen."


End file.
